KNOWLEDGE OF CHRISTIAN FRIENDS IN A FUTURE WORLD.

REV. JOHN M. MASON.

THE clay which we commit to the grave under that universal sentence, "Dust thou art, and unto dust shalt thou return," will be quickened again, and reassume, even after the slumber of ages, the organization, the lineaments, the expression, of that selfsame human being with whom we were conversant upon earth: otherwise it were a new creation, and not a resurrection; and will be reanimated by that selfsame spirit which forsook it at death: otherwise it were a different being altogether, and not the one with whom, under that form, we held sweet communion in this life, and walked to the house of God in company. It has, indeed, been questioned whether Christian friends shall know each other in the world of the risen. But why not? Did not the disciples know the Lord Jesus after his resurrection? Did they not know him at the moment of his ascension? Shall the body which he wore upon earth be the only one recognized in heaven? If Peter and Paul, if James and John, shall not be able to distinguish each other, upon what principle shall they be able to distinguish their Lord? And why should the body be raised at all, if the associations with which its reappearance is connected are to be broken and lost?

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THE FUTURE LIFE.

THE FUTURE LIFE.

WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT.

How shall I know thee in the sphere that keeps
The disembodied spirits of the dead,-
Where all of thee that time could wither sleeps
And perishes among the dust we tread?

For I shall feel the sting of ceaseless pain
If there I meet thy gentle presence not,
Nor hear the voice I love, nor read again

In thy serenest eyes the tender thought.

Will not thy own meek heart demand me there? That heart whose fondest throbs to me were given? My name, on earth, was ever in thy prayer;

Shall it be banished from thy tongue in heaven?

In meadows fanned by heaven's life-breathing wind,
In the resplendence of that glorious sphere,
And larger movements of th' unfettered mind,
Wilt thou forget the love that joined us here?

The love that lived through all the stormy past,
And meekly with my harsher nature bore,
And deeper grew, and tenderer to the last,

Shall it expire with life, and be no more?

A happier lot than mine, and larger light,

Await thee there; for thou hast bowed thy will In cheerful homage to the rule of right,

And lovest all, and renderest good for ill.

For me the sordid cares in which I dwell

Shrink and consume the heart, as heat the scroll; And wrath hath left its scar that fire of hell Has left its frightful scar upon my soul.

Yet, though thou wear'st the glory of the sky,
Wilt thou not keep the same belovéd name?
The same fair, thoughtful brow, and gentle eye,
Lovelier in heaven's sweet climate, yet the same?

Shalt thou not teach me, in that calmer home,

The wisdom that I learned so ill in this? The wisdom which is love— till I become Thy fit companion in that land of bliss?

I KNEW THAT WE MUST PART.

CHARLES SPRAGUE.

I KNEW that we must part-day after day,
I saw the dread destroyer win his way;
That hollow cough first rang the fatal knell,
As on my ear its prophet-warning fell;

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I KNEW THAT WE MUST PART.

Feeble and slow thy once light footstep grew,
Thy wasting cheek put on death's pallid hue,
Thy thin, hot hand to mine more weakly clung,
Each sweet" Good night" fell fainter from thy tongue;
I knew that we must part-no power could save
Thy quiet goodness from an early grave;

Those eyes so dull, though kind each glance they cast,
Looking a sister's fondness to the last;

Thy lips so pale, that gently pressed my cheek,
Thy voice-alas! thou couldst but try to speak ;-
All told thy doom; I felt it at my heart;

The shaft had struck - I knew that we must part.
And we have parted, sister-thou art gone!
Gone in thine innocence, meek, suffering one.
Thy weary spirit breathed itself to sleep
So peacefully, it seemed a sin to weep,

In those fond watchers who around thee stood,
And felt, e'en then, that God, e'en then, was good.
Like stars that struggle through the clouds of night,
Thine eyes one moment caught a glorious light,
As if to thee, in that dread hour, 'twere given
To know on earth what faith believes of heaven;
Then like tired breezes didst thou sink to rest,
Nor one, one pang the awful change confessed:
Death stole in softness o'er that lovely face,
And touched each feature with a new-born grace;
On cheek and brow unearthly beauty lay,
And told that life's poor cares had passed away ;
In my last hour be Heaven so kind to me!
I ask no more than this-to die like thee.

But we have parted, sister-thou art dead!

On its last resting-place I laid thy head,

Then by thy coffin side knelt down, and took
A brother's farewell kiss and farewell look;
Those marble lips no kindred kiss returned;
From those veiled orbs no glance responsive burned:
Ah, then I felt that thou hadst passed away,
That the sweet face I gazed on was but clay;
And then came Memory, with her busy throng
Of tender images, forgotten long;

Years hurried back, and as they swiftly rolled,
I saw thee, heard thee, as in days of old:
Sad and more sad each sacred feeling grew;
Manhood was moved, and Sorrow claimed her due;
Thick, thick and fast the burning teardrops started;
I turned away-and felt that we had parted.

But not forever-in the silent tomb,

Where thou art laid, thy kindred shall find room;
A little while, a few short years of pain,

And one by one we'll come to thee again;
The kind old father shall seek out the place,
And rest with thee, the youngest of his race;
The dear, dear mother, bent with age and grief,
Shall lay her head by thine, in sweet relief;
Sister and brother, and that faithful friend,
True from the first, and tender to the end,-
All, all, in His good time, who placed us here,
To live, to love, to die, and disappear,

Shall come and make their quiet bed with thee,
Beneath the shadow of that spreading tree;

With thee to sleep through death's long, dreamless

night,

With thee rise up and bless the morning light.